


A Little Advice (For the Girl I Once Was)

by flipflop_diva



Category: Chicago Fire, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Advice, Gen, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Random Encounters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:51:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3906907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Cap2, Natasha Romanoff sets off to find herself. Then she finds herself in Chicago, getting advice from an unlikely source.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Advice (For the Girl I Once Was)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2015 Into a Bar fest. No real spoilers, but it makes more sense if you've seen Cap2 and Iron Man 2. You don't really need to have seen Chicago Fire. Just know they are firefighters who own the bar (Molly's) next door.

She almost seemed to appear out of nowhere. He turned around for half a second, and when he turned back, there she was. The most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on in his life.

She had brilliantly red hair that fell in soft curls just below her shoulders, pale flawless skin that was more than shown off in a cleavage-bearing black tank top and the most piercing eyes he had ever seen.

He stared at her as she smiled at him, and his heart almost stopped.

“Can I … can I get you something?” he finally managed, fumbling all over the place and wanting to kick himself. This is why Gaby was supposed to handle the bar duties for Molly’s. This is why he was supposed to just sit back and drink with the rest of the guys.

The pretty redhead tilted her head slightly to the side and let him see a flash of brilliant white teeth. Of course her teeth were perfect too.

“Vodka on the rocks,” she said, and her voice went straight to his gut. Low and husky and a little sultry.

“You got it,” he said, and he turned around to grab a bottle of alcohol, forcing himself to breathe. It wasn’t like he hadn’t talked to beautiful women before. He could handle this.

He dropped some ice into the glass and handed it to her. 

“I haven’t seen you in here before,” he said.

“No,” she said, taking a sip. “You haven’t.”

“New to town?” he asked. The more he looked at her, the more he felt a slight flash of familiarity. Like he had seen her somewhere before. But that was impossible. He would never forget meeting someone who looked like her.

“Something like that,” she said. 

“How did you end up here, if you don’t mind my asking?” He gestured around the bar. “This isn’t really the hot spot for tourists. Just a gathering for old men and off-duty firefighters and cops.”

She shrugged. “I wanted something out of the way.”

“Well, you sure found that.” Otis smiled and held out a hand to her. “I’m Otis, by the way.”

She cocked her head to the side as she looked at him, reaching out to take his hand. “Natalie,” she said. A beat passed, then, “Are you Russian?”

“I am,” he said proudly. 

“Вы говорите по-русски?”

“Я делаю. И вы тоже?”

“О нет. Только пару слов.”

He switched back to English. “Your accent is perfect for only knowing a few words.”

He watched as her cheeks colored slightly and she glanced down. “That’s kind of you to say,” she said.

“So what do you do, Natalie?” Otis leaned forward, pressing his elbows on the bar and smiling at her.

She shrugged, reaching to take another sip of her drink. “I’m in between jobs at the moment,” she said. She paused, like trying to decide if she wanted to say any more, but then she straightened her shoulders. “I’m not really sure where to go next.”

Otis nodded. “I get that,” he said. “What were you doing before?”

“A lot of different things.” She took another drink, her eyes finding his as she did. He got the distinct feeling she didn’t want to say anything else about that, but before he could find a new topic, she was talking again. “You always wanted to be a bartender?” 

Otis laughed. “Oh, no,” he chuckled. “This is only my night job. My friends and I, we’re all firefighter for Company 54, next door.” He made a general gesture in the direction of the firehouse.

“Oh.” Natalie’s eyes widened, and Otis thought she looked slightly impressed. “That seems like it must be hard work.”

He nodded. “It is,” he agreed. “It can be really hard. Draining. You see some pretty horrible things sometimes. Human nature at it’s worst.”

“Yeah,” she said, and she sounded thoughtful, her eyes going distant for a second. Otis had a strong urge to pat her hand, but he didn’t. Instead he found himself wondering where she had come from, what her life was like before this. He wondered if she was running _from_ something.

He kept going with his answer. “But it’s also one of the most amazing jobs in the world,” he said. Her eyes seemed to come back to life at that. She blinked and looked up, so she was staring him directly in the eyes again.

“How so?” she said. “You see people at their worst, their most vulnerable. Long hours. Not much time for yourself.” She almost sounded like she was speaking from experience.

“But you also see people at their best,” he said, and took a breath, trying to figure out how to explain. “You get to help people. You get to make a difference. You meet them when they are going through some of the most horrible things they can imagine, and you get to be the one to hold their hands and help them through and save their lives.” Otis shrugged. “I guess I like knowing that what I do can make a difference, that I can save people. We all have to play our part, and this is what I do, even if it’s just helping this one tiny area of Chicago.”

Natalie nodded again. Otis couldn’t tell if she was really listening. He trailed off, smiling at her apologetically. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t be going on like that.”

She shook her head, red curls bouncing around her shoulders. “No,” she said. “Don’t be sorry. I appreciate what you said. It helped.”

“It helped you?”

She laughed softly. “Yes,” she said. “Believe it or not, it did. I think I might know where I need to go now.”

He had an urge to joke that he hoped it was on a date with him, but he didn’t. He had a feeling, by the look on her face, it wasn’t anywhere near Chicago.

“Well, I wish I could say it would be nice to see you again,” he said.

She picked up her glass one last time and drained it, placing it back down with a gentle tap. “If I’m ever in Chicago again, I’ll look you up … Otis.” She smiled, and the way she said his name sent sparks shooting through his body.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Natalie.”

“I do too.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a wad of money, tossing down a hundred dollar bill.

“Let me get you some change,” he said, but it was too late. She was already slipping off the barstool and disappearing into the crowd. He picked up the money she had left and stared after her, but she had already vanished, gone as quickly as she had arrived. 

Otis felt someone come up behind him, and he turned around to find Severide standing there, staring at him with a strange expression on his face — a sort of mixture of awe and horror. 

“You know who that was, right?” Severide said.

Otis frowned. “A tourist named Natalie?”

Severide shook his head at him, fishing in his pocket for something. He pulled up his phone and pressed a few buttons. A few seconds later, he was shoving a webpage from the New York Times under his nose.

“What?” Otis asked.

“Look.” Severide jabbed at a photo at the top of an article. Otis focused on it, trying to figure out what Severide was showing him, and …

“Shit.”

Something akin to horror settled in his gut. Of _course_ she looked familiar. He’d seen her on TV — testifying before Congress, and before that, saving the world from aliens. Of _course_ he’d seen her before. _Everyone_ had seen her before. 

Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow.

How could he be so stupid?

“Shit,” Otis whispered again.

Severide pounded him on the back. “Cheer up, buddy,” he said. “Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t recognize her. She probably would have killed you if you had.”

Otis didn’t answer, just looked back up to where Natasha Romanoff had disappeared, wondering what the hell had just actually happened.

**Author's Note:**

> “Вы говорите по-русски?” > "Do you speak Russian?"
> 
> “Я делаю. И вы тоже?” > "I do. And you as well."
> 
> “О нет. Только пару слов.” > "Oh, no. Only a couple words."
> 
> (All translations come from Google. I apologize if they are nothing close to the real thing.)


End file.
